Caught beneath a landslide: Why pop and politicians have always had a rocky relationship

This election will mark another chapter in the chequered history of the politician and the pop star. Boris Johnson created social media fury when he cited the anti-Thatcherite group the Clash as one of his favourite bands. Jeremy Corbyn, meanwhile, was eager to thank Wiley for a supportive tweet despite reports that the ‘Grime4Corbyn’ movement is now dead.

The first party leader to truly understand the importance of celebrity endorsements was Labour’s Harold Wilson. He included the Beatles on the 1964 Queen’s birthday honours list, making them the first pop stars to achieve such honours. The move created a string of positive headlines but backfired when John Lennon returned his MBE “as a protest against Britain's involvement in the Nigeria-Biafra thing.”

[su_pullquote align="right"]Wilson understood a good photo opportunity but less so the ambitions of Britain’s top rock stars[/su_pullquote]

Wilson understood a good photo opportunity but less so the ambitions of Britain’s top rock stars. His policies on taxation would lead to the great rock n roll exodus when artists such as Rod Stewart, the Rolling Stones, Thin Lizzy and David Bowie began recording overseas to avoid the eye-watering 98 per cent tax rates on their ‘unearned income.'

Labour’s policy did attract the support of Elton John, who claimed his fellow pop stars’ behaviour had spurred him into voting for the first time in his life, to prevent these “people being welcomed back.”

The confluence of left-wing pop and left-wing politics came through again in the 1970s, when Labour jumped on the ‘Rock against Racism’ movement spawned from Eric Clapton’s racist ‘get the wogs’ out rant of 1976. Labour took out full-page adverts in the music press advising readers: “Don’t just rock against racism…Vote against it.” It angered the group's organisers who argued that you can fight racism “by putting a cross on a piece of paper.” It failed to connect with young voters, as 42 per cent of 18-24 year olds voted for the Conservatives, an increase of 18 per cent in just five years.

It would be wrong to suggest that the music world was inherently left-wing as Thatcherism dawned. Paul Weller told NME readers in 1977 that trade unions had brainwashed the public and that he would be voting for Thatcher, because “all this change-the-world thing is becoming a bit too trendy.”

[su_pullquote]Paul Weller told NME that trade unions had brainwashed the public[/su_pullquote]

Weller would spend most of the next decade atoning for his comments: he was an integral part of the movement during the 1984/85 miners’ strike, where previously hostile acts such as Wham! and New Order shared a platform to fundraise for striking miners. It was during this strike that singer Billy Bragg caught the eye of the Labour leader Neil Kinnock who was hoping to modernise the party and appeal to “Melody Maker-man.”

The outcome of the meeting was Red Wedge, a group of left-wing artists brought together to engage young people in politics and the Labour Party. An eight-date national tour took place in January 1986 where music was mixed with politics.

The NME, increasingly eager to align itself with anti-Thatcher politics, fully backed the tour and put Neil Kinnock on the front of its paper twice in the run-up to the election. Kinnock flexed his ‘cool’ credentials, claiming that he was obsessed with 1950s/60s rock n roll and telling a journalist that “I was buying the NME before you were even thought of.”

Despite its starry line-up, however, Red Wedge had little effect on Labour’s re-election prospects and following another heavy defeat soon fizzled out. By the time of the next election, the NME showed little interest in Kinnock and Labour sought the endorsement of more popular mainstream acts: At the Sheffield Rally, attendees were treated to a two-minute video endorsement from Mick Hucknall of Simply Red urging people to “Vote Labour.”

It was Tony Blair who finally rode the wave of ‘Cool Britannia’ into Downing Street after pitching himself as the first leader of the “rock and roll generation.” The press obsessed with his university band “Ugly Rumours” in his early days as leader, whilst Blair slotted in at ease alongside David Bowie at the 1996 Brit Awards.

The country’s biggest band, Oasis, appeared to embody the spirit of New Labour. Unlike Red Wedge, who had limited appeal to already left-wing counter-culture, Noel Gallagher was working-class with Thatcherite aspirations. He was—to paraphrase Peter Mandelson—“intensely relaxed” about becoming filthy rich.

[su_pullquote]“Probably not by the same means as you did.” —Blair to Gallagher on how he stayed awake on election night[/su_pullquote]

Blair was eager to show he was in touch with the Britpop stars and was comfortable joking about drugs to Gallagher in Number 10 in the now infamous post-election drinks party. When Noel asked how Blair had managed to stay up on election night, he quickly replied, “probably not by the same means as you did.”

The jokes, however, did not last long. It was only five months later that the NME questioned Blair’s motivations, asking its readers in a scathing attack: “Ever had the feeling you’ve been cheated?” They gathered an impressive range of artists—from The Stone Roses, The Verve, Supergrass, Cast, Embrace, Travis and Pulp—to criticise the government’s ‘Welfare to Work’ policy. Bobby Gillespie of Primal Scream best encapsulated the new mood of apathy: “Thatcher was honest about her systematic destruction of the trade union movement and working class. Tony Blair isn’t.”

The relationship between the indie world and Blairism would never recover. By the 2001 general election, Labour was more interested in appealing to former Thatcherites such as Geri Halliwell—who was used in a “politician-free election broadcast”—than the Red Wedges of the world. Bragg took aim at Blair in the Sun, urging readers to vote tactically for the Liberal Democrats to “send a message to Tony Blair that traditional Labour voters are no longer prepared to be taken for granted.” The NME urged its readers not to bother voting.

They were particularly incensed by the music taste of one young Conservative candidate who had been asked to take part in a quick-fire music quiz. When 25-year-old Elizabeth Truss admitted that the last record she bought was Onka’s Big Moka by Toploader, the magazine responded with the headline: “they’ve voted for Toploader, so why would you want to vote for them?”

[su_pullquote align="right"]“They’ve voted for Toploader, so why would you want to vote for them?” —The NME hade doubts about the Conservatives[/su_pullquote]

Following Blair’s “betrayal,” it became much harder for politicians and pop to mix. By 2005, when the NME asked bands how they would vote, Iraq dominated their thinking. Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand labelled Blair “a villain” while Johnny Borrell of Razorlight dismissed him “a liar.” When Gordon Brown later praised the Arctic Monkeys for “waking you up in the morning,” it was followed by a minor media storm when he struggled to name one of their tracks. David Cameron sought to modernise the Conservative image by professing a love for the Smiths and Radiohead, but was rebuffed for being the wrong type of fan.

Things appeared to change in 2017 when Jeremy Corbyn won back the support of the NME through the ‘Grime4Corbyn’ movement. At his peak, Corbyn had the Glastonbury crowd under his spell—but Labour’s attempt at its own “Jezfest” resulted in the much-maligned Labour Live. Since then, Lethal Bizzle has called on Corbyn to resign, tweeting that “I can not see us getting back into power any time soon” and the ‘Grime4Corbyn’ movement has all but disappeared.

Corbyn has found out, as many have before him, the dangers of dabbling with endorsements from the music world. He has however won back the support of Billy Bragg who is now campaigning in marginal constituencies for a Labour victory. Given his track record of backing the losing side, it might not worry the Conservatives too much.